


Little Gems

by Carpe Natem (Demeanor)



Series: Twelve Days of Solstice [4]
Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Feel-good, Fluff, Happy Ending, Mild Gore, Mistletoe, Winter fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demeanor/pseuds/Carpe%20Natem
Summary: It's Amani's first winter at the Hamlet and Josephine wants to make it extra special.What better way than with some mistletoe?
Relationships: Antiquarian/Shieldbreaker (Darkest Dungeon)
Series: Twelve Days of Solstice [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057325
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Little Gems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EnemyJoestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnemyJoestar/gifts).



> Nobody asked for this but I wanted to write our desert dames goofing off in the snow. 
> 
> (Being from the desert myself, I sure hope I got the snow stuff right).
> 
> Anyway, Denouncing the Desert inspired this pairing for me, so this is for you, EnemyJoestar :')

**Little Gems**

Josephine was excited.

That really wasn’t unusual, not by any means -- the Antiquarian found something to get excited over on nearly every expedition she was sent on; however, Josephine  _ rarely  _ found particular excitement outside of reliquaries or ancient artifacts that she had such a keen eye for.

Today, her keen eyes only had focus for the other woman ahead of her, her broad shoulders and tanned skin and graceful build now bundled beneath an overly-large wool shawl of Josephine’s. Compared to the smaller woman's endless layering of elegant robes and scarves, the Shieldbreaker normally liked to dress in a way that freed her body to quick, fluid movements, unrestricted by clothing and more suitable for a desert landscape.

That being said, they were no longer  _ in  _ a desert landscape -- quite the opposite, really, as climates go.

It was Amani’s first winter outside of the dunes of their homelands, and she was unacclimated, impatient, vaguely frustrated with the harsh changes of the season. In the desert, winters frequently fell below freezing at night, so both Josephine and Amani were familiar with needing to huddle by an evening fire with a mug of burning bone broth to warm their hands. However, the winter days were generally pretty mild back at home, and with how dry the sands were, they never had ice to worry about underfoot, and certainly not  _ snow. _

Josephine had already been in the Hamlet for over a year now, but she vividly remembered her first experience with the falling white that coated the earth and froze the lakes. It was beautiful, novel, took her visible breath away from the wonder of it.

The other woman was not as keen on snow.

Even now, as they trudged through the crystalline weald, once ugly and fetid now a painting of frosted blues and whites, alien but striking, Amani all but glared at the tufts of cold falling around them. The snow crunched beneath their feet, the top layer giving way and parting to their weight lazily, not unlike the soft sands they were accustomed to, but different in the way it slicked and toyed with their balance. 

“Just a little farther, Amani,” Josephine promised the other woman. Her guilt at dragging the dancer through the snow was overshadowed by her excitement at what was to come.

They were a bit deeper into the weald than either of them would have liked, what with it just being the two of them and having minimal supplies. They weren’t on an official expedition, no, this was a more…  _ personal _ endeavor of Josephine’s, so she didn’t feel right asking for an entire escort and full provisions for the sake of her research. 

“And what treasures do you seek this time, little gem?”

She blushed at the nickname, glad for her many scarves to hide behind should Amani turn around from where she was leading them. “A plant, actually. Something native to these lands that only grows in winter.”

Which was true, and while Josephine certainly enjoyed the interest Amani took in their impromptu quest, she feared the woman’s ire at hunting a mere plant. “For your vapors?”

“Something a bit more sentimental.”

_ ‘Sentimental’  _ wasn’t something Josephine was widely known for, and with her experience as a black market spice trader back home, she was more so known for being a cutthroat merchant, willing to place a price on anything.  _ Almost anything,  _ Josephine corrected. Amani glanced back at her, her thin brows furrowed and eyes narrowed like freshly cut emeralds -- which had quickly, and not so ironically, become Josephine’s favorite gemstone to work with as of late. 

“Is this plant valuable, then?”

While she wasn’t fond of sidestepping Amani’s rare questions, Josephine was hesitant to tell her exactly what the plant was for yet, lest the taller woman think too less of it to persist in their endeavors. Josephine’s fixation was hooked, though, and the Antiquarian could think of little else this past week other than getting her hands on this plant, and Amani had surprisingly insisted she be Josephine’s escort into dangerous territory. 

“Culturally speaking, yes.” Again, Josephine gave another veiled-truth that caused Amani to roll her eyes in abdication, seeming to realize getting a direct answer was a futile effort. Normally it was Amani who held her secrets close to her chest for Josephine to uncover, not the other way around. 

The two women kept walking in the maze of petrified wood and ice drippings, glinting with the few sunbeams that managed to cut through the withered forest line.

Josephine was on high alert for signs of the plant: splotches of evergreen color in the dead of the trees, flecks of pearly waxen berries that grew in clumps, an abundance of nests from winter birds who liked to feast on the flowering plant when other food sources were scarce. Such was everything of note that Paracelsus had told her of the infamous ‘ _ mistletoe _ ’, though Audrey had also included other _ ,  _ more  _ frivolous  _ background on the strange plant. Josephine had done her own research, of course, and had unintentionally become near obsessed with the damned plant.

She had to get her hands on it before Solstice eve.

…

It might have been an hour later before Josephine found her prize -- hanging high in the brittle branches at the top of an old oak, just on the crest of a frozen lake. “There!” Josephine called out eagerly, then started to run to it before Amani caught her by the elbow with a firm grip and hard shake of her head. 

“I want you to stay close, Josephine,” Amani’s voice held a steely edge to it, made even more startling by her use of the Antiquarian’s name draped in the other woman’s accent, and Josephine gave her a quizzical look. “We are still in enemy territory.” 

Josephine was more than happy to oblige, keeping closer to Amani than she might have anyone else as she was led to the tree in question. 

The mistletoe was high in the barren treetop, tall enough that the two women had to crane their necks to see the green bushel of life. Josephine was contemplating trying to break the branches with a packed ball of snow, or perhaps Amani’s spear if the Shieldbreaker would allow it, though knowing how the woman favored her precious few items, most likely not. Absently, she chewed at her lip ring until Amani shocked her with --

“Get on my shoulders.”

For a long aghast moment, Josephine stared at the other woman; Amani was always far too humorless for this to be a joke, yet the Antiquarian was still inclined to laugh or question her own hearing, perhaps her sanity. 

When Josephine failed to move, Amani grabbed her and hoisted her up onto her strong shoulders, surprising the petite woman. Josephine was the smallest of the roster, yes, but to think Amani could handle her as if the Antiquarian weighed nothing at all was -- well, equal parts humbling and strangely thrilling. 

Her grace and strength combined was nearly overshadowed by Josephine’s mess of bundled skirts and flailing arms, but Amani seemed infallible beneath her regardless. 

After a moment of awkward maneuvering that Josephine wished nothing more than to hide her face in her hands for the duration of, she managed to reach up towards the sprig of mistletoe just overhead now, just out of reach. She bit at her lip and struggled, extending as much of her body as she could manage, trying to uncoil the way she had endlessly watched Amani do during her serpent sway dance in battle, but her fingertips just barely stopped short of the branch. 

“I can’t -- ” Josephine huffed her warm breath out in frustration, willing her arm further to the point of her shoulder aching from the strain, but it was no use. She withdrew her knife, terrified of fumbling it below, but the blade nearly reached. 

“Gemheart,” the Shieldbreaker called up to her in a warning tone.

“ _ Almost _ , Amani.”

She was right there, right at the cusp and swung once, twice, barely nicking the bottom of the branch and scattering fresh snow, determination festering in her like neurosis. 

“ _ Josephine --  _ ”

Focused, she swung once more with as much reach and momentum as possible, hacking off the branch until it barely dangled by its rotted bark, flushing Josephine’s cheeks with victory. Before she could grab the mistletoe and yank it from the oak, however, Amani was moving away from it and urgently sliding the small woman from her shoulders, cradling her with as much care as was possible with one arm. 

Josephine nearly complained at Amani aborting their prize at the last second before she caught sight of the Fungal Scratcher pair before them, shambling closer. Panic seized her -- how had she missed that? Curse her obsessive tunnel vision. 

Amani was ready in an instant, poised in front of Josephine with her spear tip raised.

The moment one of the Fungal Scratchers was in striking range, Amani was acting, power pumping through her as she drove her spear into its swollen belly with barely any of the resistance other heroes were met with when fighting these grotesque creatures. Their skin was hardened, as if grown from bark or stone, and most attacks glanced off their natural armor with ease. 

All fell to the grand tempest that was Amani, however. 

Despite the snow, she swung back with a grace smoother than Josephine could ever manage possessing herself, sending swaths of a white flurry with another sweeping lunge that this time speared straight through the Scratcher. 

Gore spurted from the first beast’s stomach when Amani danced back, staining the pristine landscape with a sickening yellow and red that steamed the air with a putrid stink. Josephine hid from the stench behind her shawl and sent a fresh wave of invigorating vapors from her censer, simultaneously trying to sharpen their senses while dulling the nausea these creatures brought. Other than that, all she could do was stay back, out of the way, and watch Amani’s dance. 

“You thought yourself impervious!” the woman scoffed as the second Fungal Scratcher approached -- soon followed by a third from the treeline. Josephine switched tactics and focused a stream of festering vapors on the third Scratcher, hoping for the chance to make Amani’s work easier, but the woman still huffed a laugh as she dueled. “No defense can handle attacks from  _ all  _ directions.”

She let the second one get a few steps closer before sending her full weight forward, bracer up and slamming it unforgivingly into the Scratcher’s chest. Its hardened skin rasped loudly against both the wood and against Josephine’s nerves, making her wince. A second later, snow twisted in the air as Amani took to it’s back and speared it through, nearly coating Josephine in viscera if not for her fortifying vapors still taking effect, letting her dodge the gory spray.

The third still approached in its shambling way despite the fallen brethren in its path and Amani faced it, perfectly poised but breathing heavier beneath Josephine’s borrowed shawls.

With crunching snow as their only warning, Amani stepped twice to the side, spun forward, then threw her momentum into piercing through the third creature’s thick neck, weakened from Josephine’s vapors festering beneath its skin. Despite the gash seeping fetid pus from the hole in its neck, it drove on, clawing against Amani’s raised arm with long nails.

In response to Amani’s hiss of pain, Josephine sent another wave of fetid vapors towards the third Fungal Scratcher, felling it in a cloud of poison. She then ran over to the other woman to inspect her wound, but Amani shrugged her off and raised her spear yet again, pointed towards something massive in the icy landscape. Josephine lifted her censer as well, searching for more Fungal Scratchers that tore like silk beneath Amani’s dazzling fury, but she sucked in a breath when she saw what else approached. 

“ _ By the Flame _ ,” Josephine mumbled. 

Coming towards them, eyes glowing greedily, was the Collector, drifting in that towering manner it normally haunted hallways and aqueducts with; it filled Josephine’s bones with dread as it clicked its head and ground its teeth at them from the ghostly brazier containing it.

“We should leave while we can,” Amani breathed, staying her defensive position behind her shield like a one-woman phalanx in front of Josephine, who glanced up to the oak tree.

“The mistletoe -- ”

It was still dangling precariously from it’s twine of fibers, swaying in the brisk winter wind and teasing Josephine with its fragile attainability while so far out of reach. Amani glanced at her with the eyes of a viper, all venom and coiled violence, yet they hid something softer, something pleading, then fixed them back on the Collector. “We’ll die if we stay, little gem!”

Josephine looked between her and the mistletoe, torn -- Amani wasn’t going to leave her here to face the Collector alone, Light be praised, but she didn’t think it was possible for even the likes of the Shieldbreaker to face the Collector by herself and come out victorious. 

“Is your  _ life  _ worth this prize?” Amani pressed urgently, backing herself up to Josephine.

In all honesty, the Antiquarian’s profession revolved around putting her life on the line for her extravagant finds; was Josephine’s life worth this bushel of mistletoe? Perhaps. That was part of the fun in making her discoveries, to parcel what had been uncovered in due effort and determining if the blood, sweat, and tears she and others shed had been worth it in the end. But… it wasn’t just her own life that she risked now. Yes, her life was worth the thrill of discovery and pursuit of wealth and rarities, but was  _ Amani’s _ ? 

Her hand acted quickly of its own accord, digging into her satchel and pulling out a pinch of flash powder between her fingertips before shouting to the other woman.

“Get down!” 

Amani acted without question, as if in sheer reaction to Josephine’s demand, and just as the Collector fell upon them with an opening cloak and clicking skull, the Antiquarian blew the powder towards it. The mixtures of well-perfected particles did what they were designed to do and exploded on impact with a bright flash, not causing severe damage but instead pillowing a massive cloud of smoke between them and the Collector. 

She tugged on Amani’s left bicep then, just above where the shield was strapped to what was left of the dancer’s forearm, and once more, Amani reacted to her with an unexpected instinct and unwavering loyalty. They ran together, upturning the snow in their haste to put distance between themselves and the hulking Eldritch devil still cloaked in heavy smog.

By the time they felt comfortable enough to slow down, they were both too exhausted to even consider denouncing one another’s actions. 

…

“Was it really that important, Josephine?”

They were nearing the Hamlet now, just on the brink of dusk, and Josephine looked up at the serious tone of her name; Amani must have noticed her sulking at the loss of a nearly won treasure, just at the breadth of her fingertips, now gone to her all the same. Embarrassed, Josephine just shrugged and stayed quiet, lest she give away too many of her plans -- plans now dangling from an oak tree some miles into the weald. It might as well have been in the darkest dungeon itself as far as a lowly Antiquarian was concerned.

“It must have been quite valuable, then,” Amani spoke again, taking Josephine’s continued silence as an answer in and of itself. Sheepish, Josephine shook her head and pensively tongued at her lip ring for a moment.

“Perhaps. Mistletoe is hard to find elsewhere, but,” the smaller woman took a breath, filtering out her disappointment at being empty-handed. “It was going to be a Solstice gift.”

_ For you. _

The plant itself wasn’t anything special to look at, but it had medicinal properties that Josephine wanted to experiment with for Amani’s sake and -- and, well, beyond that, it held a strange  _ cultural  _ importance in the Hamlet. Nothing Josephine had ever participated in firsthand or given second thought to in the past, but some silly Western traditions for Solstice might be fun to take part in this year, she mused. 

They fell to silence once more for the remainder of the trip home, and while Josephine was disappointed that they returned scant of gold and provisions, she couldn’t help smiling beneath her scarf at the time spent with Amani.

...

Days passed in idle leisure with the Hamlet preparing for Solstice, and since most of Josephine’s time was spent at the athenaeum, she only saw the other woman in passing, until --

“Little scholar?”

Josephine was in one of the many smaller vestibules, tucked away amid her research and trinkets, her precious jeweler’s loupe strapped to her fingers and a singularly valuable artifact in her hands. She set them both down and rose from her messy table at the particular summons drawing nearer and nearer on silent footsteps; Amani rarely came to visit the athenaeum and when she did, it wasn’t for the company of the local reclusive Antiquarian. 

Her heart rate spiked in anticipation as she quickly turned the corner and found Amani, tall and lithe and exceptionally beautiful within the confines of dusty books and cluttered alchemy tables. A desert rose, thorns and all. And clumped in her hands:

_ The mistletoe…! _

Confused, elated, Josephine caught her attention and drew her over, immediately intoxicated to speechlessness by Amani’s presence until she cleared her throat and tried. 

“Is that -- ”

“I found -- ”

They stopped, fell to silence, then shifted awkwardly until Amani shoved the plant towards her, tact gone.

“I believe this is what you were looking for.” She said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, as if Amani hadn’t just taken Josephine’s normally endless sense away with a single, unexpected gesture. Words blurred in Josephine’s throat, melded until she could only think to form a single, breathless word in her excitement. 

“ _ How? _ ”

Amani just chuckled as the smaller woman politely took the mistletoe from her and rushed it to her desk, following closely enough that Josephine could hear the swish of her borrowed shawl. “It was simple, once I managed to find the branch you had already cut.”

That explained so little of the barrage of questions Josephine had, but she set them aside for a single, glaring doubt now running circles in her mind. “But…  _ why? _ ”

“I’ve never seen you so disappointed,” the Shieldbreaker simply stated, eyes furrowed seriously. Josephine nearly laughed if not for her shock -- Amani had noticed? Amani had  _ cared _ ? It wasn’t something the Antiquarian was used to, as her companions frequently entertained her constant search for rarities and oddities for the sake of the gold it so often earned them, but never out of actual respect for her practice. Even Alhazred, in all of his scholarly pursuits, was sometimes brusque with Josephine’s impulsive need to backtrack, optimize, occasionally even toss their provisions entirely to make room for her ceaseless treasures. 

To think someone else would backtrack  _ for  _ her, and not even for a priceless ancient artifact but for a weed of a plant that Amani knew nothing about… It sent wonderful pangs through Josephine’s chest at the thought, mixed with worry at Amani putting herself at risk -- whether that be from the Collector or from hypothermia.

“You didn’t run into our Eldritch friend out there, I hope.” 

Upon their returning home and, almost reluctantly, parting ways, Josephine had internally sworn to herself to never place someone else’s life at risk for the sake of satiating her curiosity. Her own, yes, sure, fine. But someone she cared for? Even in the moment of avarice, that was impossible to justify, though Josephine would surely be laughed at by her past mercantile peers for going  _ soft _ . Back then, she would never have been so sentimental, not for a plant or even a person. But that was before she had met Amani, or anyone else on the roster.

Amani shook her head and gave little else in the way of explanation as to how she acquired the mistletoe, so Josephine immediately got to work dissecting the flora, though she was pleasantly surprised when Amani stayed to watch. It was distracting,  _ wonderfully  _ so, but Josephine was happy to trade her hyper-focused habits for indulging in Amani’s curiosity. 

“It’s actually a parasitic plant, you see,” she mumbled off the bit of background investigation she had studied in the weeks leading up to braving the weald for a sample.

“You can find beauty in  _ anything _ , it seems,” Amani huffed a laugh, and Josephine suppressed a shiver in response, involuntarily letting her sudden nerves draw her eyes up to meet the dancer’s sparkling jade ones.

“Some things are easier than others.” 

To avoid getting tongue-tied and embarrassing herself further, Josephine cleared her throat and continued rattling off various facts about the plant -- it’s etymology, it’s life cycle, its toxicity. Growing mostly in winters, the mistletoe was a parasite to other plants, she’d learned from Paracelsus, attaching itself to a host and feeding off its scarce nutrients until the branch it hung onto all but withered and died. Late enough into the season, it would produce waxy white berries that were toxic to humans but a delicacy for winter birds, and were frequently used by followers of the Light in traditional Solstice celebration.

“Why is that?” Amani asked, and Josephine reveled in the other woman’s curiosity -- until she realized what she was asking about. “You said it was culturally valuable. Why?”

Josephine coughed and shrugged her scarf further up her nose in attempts of hiding the embarrassed blush she felt creeping across her face. That same blush when Audrey had lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaned in close enough to tell Josephine, then cackled her hyena laugh when the tiny Antiquarian shrunk even smaller.

“Many ancient Western cultures considered the berries to be a symbol of fertility,” Josephine had learned during her own long nights of research at the athenaeum. “Even today, the Light reveres the plant as a token of love, and has certain expectations surrounding it.” 

“And those expectations are?”

The blush was certainly well past her scarf now, and Josephine kept her eyes down at the plant but paused her anxious hands. “That… those near it will… kiss.”

Amani was silent at that, pensive or confused or annoyed, Josephine couldn’t be sure, so she let her hands take over on the plant. As tempting as that certain cultural tradition was to Josephine where Amani was involved, it truly wasn’t the aspect of the plant that had caught her unyielding interest from the start. No, the plant itself had medicinal properties that Josephine wanted to explore further, learn how to utilize for Amani’s sake.

When Amani finally spoke, her normally confident voice sounded as wound tight as Josephine felt. “Can I… help?”

Josephine was momentarily surprised at the offer, but more so at the softness in Amani’s voice when she asked. She looked between the table and the other woman, wondering what she could have a second pair of hands do that wouldn’t just make a mess of things, then eventually sighed and declined the offer.

As Amani left the cramped vestibule, still warm with her presence, Josephine couldn’t help but wonder if the other woman were disappointed. 

…

It was finished.

After days, after  _ nights,  _ after skipped meals and too few baths and the rare visit from Alhazred, Paracelsus, and even now Amani come to keep her company while Josephine hid her research, it was finally  _ finished _ .

Atop the work desk was a single, elegant bracer, gilded at the edges and glinting green with little emerald gems in the center; the rest of it was made with the hardened leathery leaves of the mistletoe, its berries extracted to buff the trinket with secret medicinal properties. It was very nearly Josephine’s finest work yet, considering her limited space and tools, even compared to when she was selling buff-blessed equipment back in the sands of her homeland for an exorbitant price.

She was exhausted, but more importantly, she was  _ proud. _

Over the course of days, Josephine had barely managed to perfect this bracer in time for Solstice eve, having mere hours left in the night to present it to her special someone.

_ Amani. _

And she knew just where to find her, once she got herself cleaned up, of course.

...

The tavern was decorated in golds and whites for the sake of the festival with spiced smells wafting from the kitchen, the beer flowing freely, the raucous laughter of others, and strangely enough, it momentarily reminded Josephine of Solstice eve in the desert. 

Her eyes found Amani immediately, perched in the center of the room and dancing far too elegantly for the mood of the tavern. Next to her, Sarmenti rang his bells in a much more jovial dance, eliciting laughter from the onlookers. It took only moments for Amani to notice Josephine amid the crowd which surprised the Antiquarian -- she never exactly commanded a room to full attention the way Amani so naturally did, but the Shieldbreaker must have been anticipating her arrival. 

The dancer twirled through the crowd as if she were a top sweeping gracefully across a board, sidestepping everything in its path that might topple it otherwise. 

When they met, Josephine couldn’t help the broad smile beneath her scarf as Amani guided them to the door, her thin hand settled just atop Josephine’s lower back, catching the scholar’s full attention despite the commotion of the tavern. Once they were outside, Amani lowered her veil and took a deep breath of fresh air, striking Josephine speechless for the dozenth time. 

Amani rarely trusted anyone enough to lower her veil around them. 

It was like peeking out the window and catching a sunrise, beautiful and unexpected and so wholly unforgettable. Josephine had to swallow the words welling up in her throat, letting them settle and flutter in her stomach anxiously as they churned for release -- she was here for a reason, not just to ogle the other woman.

“I’m glad you’ve left your crypts, little gem,” Amani smiled at her, oblivious to Josephine’s inner turmoil swirling desperation in the shade of greens and bronze hues that felt more like home to her than even the desert. 

She wasn’t sure what to say, didn’t trust herself with eloquence, so Josephine merely thrust the bundled present towards Amani, nervously biting at her lip ring and wondering if she should make a break for it now with the Shieldbreaker distracted. There’s no way she could outpace the dancer, not in these skirts and not with Amani’s sheer grace and height, but perhaps if she got a head start on the taller woman… 

“What’s this?” Amani asked, genuinely curious. 

“A present,” Josephine responded as if that weren’t glaringly obvious, so she forced herself to elaborate. “For Solstice eve.” At Amani’s raised eyebrow, Josephine took a breath and finally allowed the other woman the whole truth of her ambitions recently. “It’s for your first winter in the Hamlet. Your first winter as… a free woman.”

Amani’s face danced from curious to confused to something Josephine had never yet seen grace her striking features:  _ vulnerability _ . It was no less beautiful than any other expression made by the Shieldbreaker, but this one especially squeezed at Josephine’s heart pleasantly.

“Josephine…”

Honestly, the Antiquarian wasn’t sure how much more she could take in the tender moment, so she attempted to huddle further in her scarves and merely nodded to the gift.

With slow, intentional fingers, Amani removed the silk wrappings of the present in Josephine’s outstretched hands, corner by corner, almost torturously deliberate, until finally the bundle fell apart and exposed what was within. The bracer Josephine had spent so long parsing together and enchanting, reinforced mistletoe leaves woven together and ornately embellished with every emerald Josephine had stockpiled to this point. Which, because of Josephine’s self-admitted neurotic tendencies, had been a small fortune’s worth. Her merchant mind automatically ran through the process of appraising the bracer, though it was a moot point; Josephine had no interest in crafting another unless Amani requested it of her.

“Mistletoe has a history of soothing the nervous system and reducing certain stress,” Josephine swallowed, eyes never leaving Amani’s unreadable face as she took the bracer in her hand and turned it over. For weeks, Josephine had scoured all text regarding mistletoe’s sleep properties, reviewing both academic sources that Alhazred provided and the more anecdotal ones from Paracelsus, until she felt confident in its use. “It’s used to prevent nightmares, so I charmed the bracer with it.”

Aching eternity stretched into a single long moment between them, and when Amani finally looked up, Josephine expelled the breath she was holding in a single cloud of warm air between them.

Amani looked to her as if Josephine had given her the world and more. As if she had given the Shieldbreaker her freedom again. 

Those thoughts churning within Josephine, a whirlwind of bundled nerves wound tight and painful fought to be spoken all at once, needed to be heard, but just as quickly vanished when Amani raised the bracer to her left bicep and slid it on snugly. Once that was secured and her hand was free, she reached her hand up to Josephine’s face -- then hesitated.

“May I, Josephine?”

_ May she _ \-- ? The Antiquarian realized abruptly what Amani was asking for and quickly reached up instead to yank her own winter scarves down to her thin neck, exposing her face fully for the dancer. Of  _ course  _ Amani would be ever respectful when it came to personal space, Josephine mused, eager,  _ yearning _ . She immediately felt Amani’s touch, palm cupping her cheek, drawing her forward. Josephine followed the pull, gaze never leaving those adder eyes, breath held as Amani leaned down to meet her.

When their lips touched, Josephine felt a warmth fill her from head to toe, only to catch in her chest and uncoil the mess of thoughts and worries she had felt building up to this moment, the restless days and lonely nights.

Amani flooded her senses with her body heat, her scent, her  _ taste,  _ inviting and utterly insatiable _.  _ The kiss itself was nearly chaste if not for how warm and languid and supple the Shieldbreaker felt against her mouth, filling Josephine with everything she could ever want in this moment. She suddenly felt too hot for all of the robes she was swathed in despite the chill of the winter air, and when they finally parted, Josephine was shocked to see flakes of snow falling.

What’s more, she was dazed to see Amani’s smile, still close enough that their fog of breaths mingled, and the woman leaned down to give Josephine another quick kiss.

“ _ Exquisite… _ ” Josephine breathed, mostly to herself, flushed with weakness.

The dancer just chuckled and glanced at the foreign snow, then to her new bracer, then back at Josephine, fondness flooding her gemstone eyes in a way Josephine had never seen before now. Josephine hadn’t known the Shieldbreaker before she was enslaved, if there had ever been a time, but all she wanted was to give her the future Amani deserved. 

It made her heart clench beautifully, and Josephine felt tears of joy welling up. 

“You certainly are, little love,” answered Amani, voice draped thick with accent and finery that coated Josephine in shivers and promise for a future together. “Perhaps I can get used to these silly traditions if they’re with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jeeez, so cheesy and goofy. The next one-shot is going to be a little heavier and darker, which is maybe not the best Holiday-vibe. Sorry in advance!


End file.
